


Tie Me Up, Doctor

by MiaTheRemarkableMurderess



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, Biting, Blow Jobs, Choking, Daddy Issues, Daddy Kink, Dubious Consent, F/M, Lace, M/M, Masturbation, Rough Sex, Teacher-Student Relationship, Threesome, Threesome - F/M/M, Tie Kink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-29 14:31:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17205140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiaTheRemarkableMurderess/pseuds/MiaTheRemarkableMurderess
Summary: Abigail Hobbs still cannot get rid of the demons of her past. Since her father was fanatically overprotecting her, she is totally lost in the things like sex. One day she finds out that sex is not practiced only for breeding and that people can do it only for their pleasure and she asks Hannibal about it. He tells her that it is beneficial for both physical and mental relief and pleasure and Abigail asks him to have sex with her. Hannibal realizes it can help her in the therapy and he approves. He has his specific tastes though and he wants to make it unforgettable for the both of them...In next chapters, Will's going to join them, too.





	1. Chapter I.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first published fanfic and I'm not a native speaker so I beg you to be a bit tolerant. I hope it won't discourage you from potential reading. Thank you! :)

Hannibal was sitting at the desk in his office and sketching absently his own replica of Botticelli’s “The Birth of Venus”. He was waiting for his appointment with Abigail, who was supposed to arrive at 5 o’clock. The landscape behind his tall slim French windows was already darkening due to the fact it was a late November and it was also quite windy. Treetops were drunkenly swaying with their semi-bare branches outstretched to the sky like skeleton's fingers. Hannibal wasn't able to concentrate properly. He stopped drawing for a while and got drown in his own thoughts. He didn't know why, but something was telling him there's something unusual going to happen in next hours.

It was that familiar pattern of knocking (four staccatos and one terminating legato) what interrupted his peaceful stroll through the spacious rooms of his memory palace. Still clutching the pencil in his hand, Hannibal flinched a bit. He looked at the watch on the wall – Abigail was really punctual, it was exactly 5 PM. He touched up his three-piece-suit and got up to open the door.

“Hello, Abigail,” he said with a genuine, benign smile. 

“Hello, Dr Lecter” she replied, her voice somewhat high-pitched and shaky though.

He let her in and frowned for himself – there was something different about her that time. She automatically hung her petrol green coat and simple yellow cotton cardigan onto the rack and sat herself into the armchair which was usually meant for her. She seemed to be really distracted.

Hannibal asked her politely if she wants a tea and after a short wiggle of her head just sat down opposite to her. He bent closer to her letting his elbows rest on his knees and looked straight into her normally clearly blue eyes, for now strangely foggy with unfamiliar affection. 

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” he asked her frankly, yet softly.

She shifted a bit, rubbed her ankles when unconsciously crossing her legs and ran through her hair with her fingers. “I… I don’t know. I’m… confused,” she blundered out. He gave her a questioning look. She felt apparently very uncomfortable about this conversation.

“You don’t need to tell me if you do not want to,” he recalled her. She nodded and swallowed.

“Actually, I need to tell you, because I want you to shed light on it for me.” She bit her bottom lip and looked down to hypnotize her toes hidden in cheesy brown shoes. Hannibal guessed it was embarrassment and shyness what she felt.

“Help yourself,” he beckoned, encouragingly.

She loudly sighed, hesitated for another few moments and then started: “I just heard something very weird today and cannot get over it. I just heard that… that people fuck for fun.”

Hannibal was genuinely surprised by her confession. He couldn’t help an amused thrill to run across his face.

“Come on, Abigail. Firstly, do not call it "fucking". It’s rude and unnecessary. And you know how much I disdain rudeness, don’t you?” he looked at her with raised eyebrows. She blushed with guilt and nodded.

He smiled and continued: “Secondly. Yes, that' s true. Although the main and paramount purpose of sex is, as you surely know, breeding, people love to sleep together also for a pure joy. It brings them both mental and physical relief and pleasure. Sex helps to fight against stress due to hormones which are released in the specific organs of ours during the sexual act. It is beneficial for stability and relaxation,” suddenly he silenced, realizing how unnecessarily much professor-like he has to sound.

Abigail was looking at him, her curious eyes wide open, apparently impressed.

“If it helps against stress and helps us to relax,” she started, cautiously, cleared her throat and continued, “why cannot I have sex, too? I need to relax so bad,” she almost yelped.  
“I have nightmares almost every night and I am still so traumatized. Sometimes, I just can't think rationally,” she couldn’t complete her speech due to the drops of tears which started rolling down her cheeks. 

Hannibal was quite caught by surprise. He blinked a few times, made a deep breath and then took Abigail’s petite quaking chin between his cold, slender fingers and made her look at him. “Abigail, at first you need to have someone with whom you would want to have sex and vice versa,” he explained, patiently.

Although Hannibal was trying to sound as paternally and reserved as possible, there was a sting of unidentifiable arousal arising in his loins. Abigail was sorting her thoughts for a while. She bit and licked her lower lip and plugged a wandering strand of her straight brown hair behind her small freckly ear.

She locked her aquamarine, puppyish eyes with Hannibal’s dark, spiking ones and in the most innocent, sweetest tone stained with desperate impatience uttered: “And you don’t want to have sex with me, doctor Lecter?” 

The sting of arousal, which was settled in Hannibal’s loins seemed to pierce him through in the moment Abigail finished her startling demand. In spite of his usual unyielding serenity Hannibal felt a dryness in his mouth and realized that his heart is frantically thundering in the depth of his ribcage, threatening to burst out. Unclear thoughts were fiercely flying through the chambers of his brain and it took him an untypical period of time to pull himself sufficiently together again. 

However, he’s Hannibal Lecter. In the end, it was just that distinctive chilly, charming elegance, inscrutable expression of his smoothly shaven face and mercilessly piercing look of those maroon eyes.

“If that’s what you want,” he replied neutrally.


	2. Chapter II.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abigail decides and the "D-Day" comes. They dine together and prepare for the nitty-gritty of her visit...

_Oh my precious ember burning,_

_my sweet glowing light_

_From the moment I first saw you_

_I was yours and you were mine_

_Deep down we both knew you were trouble by design_

_And the echo of my mother's words:_

_“baby don’t you play with fire.”_

_-_ Too Late to Say Goodbye (Cage the Elephant)

 

Hannibal’s calm, honest words splashed in an unrecognized wave of thrill over Abigail’s unknowing, immaculate body. She looked at him with her fair pupils shining in expectation and clumsy eagerness. She shifted in the armchair and without even knowing it, she excitedly gripped the leather armrests.

Hannibal was observing her reaction with a great deal of satisfaction, but suddenly caught her small restless hands into his big and steady ones and claimed her attention. 

“Abigail,” he said urgently, “Calm down, please. Now.” 

Abigail immediately froze, and Hannibal could see a shame mirroring in her face. It surprised him, in a good way, how intense impact he has upon her and chuckled for himself.

“Abigail, listen to me. First sex is a very important step into adulthood. I want you to think it out properly not to regret it later. Do it for me and tell me your decision on our next session.”

Abigail, though under Hannibal’s undeniable influence, blurted with uninhibited frustration: “But that’s next week!”

Hannibal smirked a bit, smoothed her hand and purred: “All good things to those who wait. Now, stop wasting our time and let’s continue in our therapy.”

\------

First December week brought also first snow. Tiny snowflakes were falling from the dark, heavy sky, lazily dancing in the light of garden lamp and reminded Hannibal, who was standing at the window, of the softest tones of Aria da Capo, when played on his beloved harpsichord. He was nervous; burning with curiosity how Abigail decided.

Finally, five knocks interrupted the silence of his office and he went to welcome his last patient.

Abigail took off her coat and plain woollen sweater and hung it onto the rack. She didn’t aim at the armchair as usually though, she stopped right in front of Hannibal to look him straight into the eyes with determination which somewhat endlessly amused him. 

“Dr Lecter, I made the decision. I want that. With you.”

Hannibal remained silent. He let her drown in his eyes, that brave little girl with unfortunate fate, for now completely hypnotized and breathless by his spell and he raised his hand to touch her face, fascinated by the mixture of its outer coolness and inner hotness. With his forefinger, Hannibal ran tenderly over Abigail’s soft cheekbone, along the curve of her jaw and stopped on her dry, raspberry red lower lip. She feverishly closed her eyes but before she could press herself into Hannibal’s touch, he removed his hand and without other prompts replied: “Good.”

\------

It was Saturday, three days after Hannibal’s and Abigail's last session.  
Shortly after Hannibal finished cooking the dinner - garlic brown sugar glazed salmon with asparagus, the doorbell rang. 

“Hello, Abigail,” he greeted her and helped her out of her coat.

She had been at his place already for a few times, that’s why she oriented herself quite well. She sat onto the bar chair, let her legs playfully hanging in the air as if she was ten years old younger again and glanced at Hannibal.

He looked stunning. His omnipresent elegance seemed to grow even more apparent that evening, wearing an opalescent black suit, champagne satin shirt and neatly ironed tie with extravagant pattern, his auburn hair perfectly slicked and sharply cut face freshly shaven. He had a pleasant Cologne and Abigail couldn’t help swallowing deeply. It looked like an honour to her that this man is supposed to be her first lover. Despite her lust, she shattered subconsciously - Hannibal's respectful flawlessness made her suddenly feel a bit disturbed and awoke so far hidden fears. She chased them away though and instead asked Hannibal what's for dinner.

Hannibal gave her a few standard questions, asked her if she prefers red or white wine and when she answered that she doesn’t prefer any because she hadn’t drunk wine ever before, he just raised his strangely fair eyebrow and decided to pour her rose one. After that, he told her to use his bathroom and change her clothing for that one he left for her in the guest room. 

On Friday, Hannibal had been in one of those luxurious boutiques with underwear and according to the measures he took her on Thursday before their therapy he managed to choose an exquisite bra and matching panties – both purely white and made of lovely lace.

Hannibal thought that lace perfectly portrays Abigail’s character. It acts like an innocent girlish accessory; however, it’s dangerously titillating. Plus, white colour finely contrasts with her dark hair and ocean eyes.

On his way home, Hannibal imagined the picture of Abigail in her cheesy shoes, basic jeans and practical plain T-Shirt and decided to stop in another several boutiques, where he added a satin champagne knee-length dress with deep, yet elegant neckline and thin-buckled black shoes on decently high heels. Instead of her tasteless colourful scarf which she was using to cover the scar her father caused her while cutting her throat, Hannibal bought a lace choker necklace with a single pearl in the front.

Now, freshly showered with brushed hair Abigail put on her new outfit and insecurely entered the dining room.

\------

When they finished the dinner, Abigail was already noticeably impacted by the alcohol in her veins, since she had never drunk before. The combination of this fact and especially the arising fear of oncoming events, Abigail was talking and talking to distract herself, her voice slightly shaking and eyes blinking frequently with those long lashes. 

Hannibal figured there’s no reason for postponing the event they bear down on. Although he hated this very behaviour, he himself interrupted Abigail in the middle of her never-ending gibbering.

“Abigail, go to my bedroom and wait for me there,” he ordered.

She immediately stopped talking not to let Hannibal down. There was a patent hint of insecurity and doubt in her posture and expression though. She was trembling as a rainswept puppy and all of sudden, despite her sexy dress and high heels, she looked once more rather like a frightened schoolgirl.

To Hannibal’s own surprise, that vulnerability which was almost visibly welling out of Abigail caused an urgent yerning in his lower belly. They changed looks. Hannibal's eyes darkened.

"Abigail, go to my bedroom and wait for me there. Now," he repeated and motionlessly watched her obediently stumbling out of dining room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for a maybe somewhat slow introduction, I just tend to make thing as clear as possible.  
> Next chapter's going to be much hotter! :D (I hope.)


	3. Chapter III.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! :)

Abigail knew where to find Hannibal’s bedroom, but she had never been inside. She carefully opened the massive door. The room was apparently spacious and mostly drown in darkness. The dim lamplight, coming through the window on the other side of the room, was mildly illuminating its closest surroundings including a corner of Hannibal’s bed.

Abigail relievedly sat onto the black silk bedsheet. Not that she was that drunk, but her knees were weakened from fear and nervousness and threatened to betray her. She felt her heartbeat almost in throat. Her head was spinning and when she touched her forehead, it was hot, almost feverish. 

She was wondering for how long Hannibal plans to leave her waiting. Deep inside her there were two untypically strong emotions fighting against each other – lustful expectation and impatience against horrifying uneasiness and hope for the man to forever stay outside the door.

To distract herself, Abigail kneeled in front of the window, supported her elbows on windowsill and watched the snowflakes glittering in the light of the lamp and chasing each other like drunk fireflies. Her own drunkenness was slowly fading away as the time went by and she realized that the soberer she is, the thicker veil of fears cloaks her. 

\------

When the door finally opened, Abigail wasn’t expecting it. She gasped from shock and still kneeling on the floor turned to face the entering man.

What she saw was just a silhouette. Tall, slender figure with broad shoulders and chest and oh-so-sharp cheekbones. So sharp Abigail was sure they would easily pierce through her pale skin. She instinctively cowered closer to wall. Hannibal was slowly approaching her. Every single step of his seemed to be precisely premeditated and purposeful, until he finally reached her. 

Hannibal stopped few feet in front of Abigail and lifted up her chin. One half of her face was drowned in dark, the other illuminated by dim outer light.

“Stand up, Abigail,” he ordered.

Abigail obeyed, though she wasn’t sure if she can rely on her legs. He was still wearing his three-piece suit. Somewhat she had postulated he’ll be at least a bit more naked, but after all, he was Dr Hannibal Lecter. It shouldn’t have surprised her.

Hannibal was still holding onto the tip of her chin.

“Abigail,” he said, his voice huskier and deeper than usually, “listen to me now. I want you to know that you can stop me anytime. I’m not pushing you into anything. You’re not gonna be hurt, but as I say – anytime you want me to stop, I’ll stop, you understand?” 

She quietly nodded, feeling a splinter of relief inside.

“However,” Hannibal continued, “I want you to do exactly what I’ll tell you to do – of course as long as you’ll agree with what’s happening.” He made a short pause and then added: "And one last thing - this is a part of your therapy. I want to give your life stability, I want you to know you have things under control. Nevertheless, remember, that once you stop me, I won't continue. It's entirely your responsibility. Think properly while considering what is at what isn't bearable." Abigail nodded again and swallowed. A strand of hair slipped from behind her ear and fell over her eye. Hannibal pulled it back gently and held her hand. 

“Abigail. Take off your dress,” he murmured.

Abigail was grateful for the darkness which was surrounding them, so he couldn’t see her blushing. She had never undressed in front of anyone before. The remains of alcohol allowed her to throw away her shyness though and she removed her dress and heels.

Hannibal was standing in a shadow and silently, motionlessly observing. When the satin dress slid down off her narrow hips, Hannibal licked his drying lips and felt as the blood starts circulating faster through his organism. It was throbbing in his ears, in his loins, behind his forehead. 

Suddenly, he walked up to Abigail, lifted her up as if she weighted nothing and threw her on the bed. Before she could do anything, Hannibal gripped her arms and put them above her head, pinning them down with a steely strength of his own manly hand. 

He drew closer to her ear and whispered: “Will you be my little girl?”

“Yes, Doctor,” she breathed out heavily. 

Hannibal withdrew something from the pocket of his suit. Abigail’s eyes, already adjusted to dark, allowed her to recognize it's something thin and satin. Tie, Abigail guessed and was right. Hannibal dexterously tied up her wrists together and besides to the bed rail. Abigail understood that since this moment she’s ridiculously helpless and totally in Hannibal’s mercy.

\------

Abigail was watching him as he took off his suit. It was that peculiar beastliness in his dark eyes hidden under the veil of charming elegance  
what frightened her the most. Hannibal seemed to be endlessly turned on seeing her this powerless. She saw her own breast arising in the wild rhythm of her frantic heartbeat.

“Doctor Lecter,” she whined quietly.

“Shh,” he didn’t let her continue and put finger on her lips, slipping a bit into the warmth of her mouth.

“I want you to not say a word, Abigail,” he commanded. 

After that, Hannibal climbed onto the bed. He kneeled astride Abigail’s thighs, which caused her legs being pinned down, too. Hannibal untied the tie around his neck. She could see the long tensed tendons on his throat and also the hair on his chest peering from behind two unbuttoned upper buttons of his satin shirt. 

Hannibal put one end of the tie onto her collar bone, clutching the other one and started slowly, teasingly caressing the delicate skin of her trunk. He proceeded lower and lower, from collar bones across the chest, he didn’t miss a single rib. Abigail felt as if the touch of the slick cold satin material was leaving behind a burning trail of goose bumps. When he got to her stomach and encircled her belly-button, she squeezed her tights, arched in back from this so far unrecognized sensation and through her lips escaped a little choked moan. 

Hannibal drew closer to Abigail’s ear once more, so close she felt his hot breath in her ear hole.

“Shh,” he hissed and through his lips ajar those sharp teeth glimmered in the vague lamplight. Abigail couldn’t help and moaned once more. Hannibal drove into her hair with his fingers like with a long-jagged hairbrush, grasped them roughly and leeched onto her ear. He licked her earlobe and when she didn’t expect it at all, he bit it. She cried in amazement and was promptly punished with another bite.

Hannibal was licking and kissing his way along the girl’s subtle jaw and tensed neck. He felt the blood of hers pulsating in a carotid artery, as his tongue was making its way along it and he found it really hard to resist and not to sink his teeth into the flesh. Her neck tasted bitter and was smelling of some cheap sweet perfume and Hannibal though of buying some superior next time. 

Hannibal was very much aware he’s already hardening and realized that he no longer has his own lust under control.

Holding still onto Abigail’s hair with his left hand he used his right one to undo the front fastening of her bra and let her small firm breasts expose in their whole marble white beauty. Hannibal immediately sucked onto her nipple and with satisfaction felt as it swiftly stiffens and presses against his wet tongue. 

Abigail’s cheeks were on fire. She was loudly breathing and closing eyes in pleasure. Hannibal, still kneeling astride, was aware of the systematic twitching of her overwhelmed body and also of his erection being constantly tortured by the fraction of pants' fabric. He desperately needed to relieve himself but decided to wait for another while...


End file.
